


Choking On Fear

by IcyPanther



Series: Fic of the Month [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Choking, Gen, Hanging, Homesick Lance (Voltron), Hurt Lance (Voltron), Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lance (Voltron) Whump, Langst, Missing Scene, Public Execution, Revenge, Violence, Whump, season six introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 17:56:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20492900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IcyPanther/pseuds/IcyPanther
Summary: The Paladins have just emerged from battle with Lotor, but victorious is not the word they would use to describe it. They are hurting, exhausted, and no longer have a home to return to. They also have no supplies. Lance is tasked with visiting the town on the planet they make an emergency landing on to try and charm his way to some necessities. But, somehow, what has only been mere hours to Lance and the others has been years to these aliens. Voltron abandoned them, they claim, and because of it they have suffered at the hands of the Galra. They want revenge, they want Voltron to feel their pain and fear. And a public hanging of this wayward Paladin of Voltron is just what the universe has ordered to set things right.





	Choking On Fear

**Author's Note:**

> **Timeline notes: **Set post season six, before season seven episode one  
**Warning notes:** Some violence, nothing particularly graphic  
**Other notes:** My Patreon fic from April

Lance ran through his mental checklist again because he needed something to do to quell the anxious panic welling inside him.

Kaltenecker, check, safe in the cargo hold of the Red Lion.

Bayard, check, plugged into the console.

Armor, check, wearing it.

His jacket and all other clothes, check, thrown into the bag in the hasty few minutes he’d had before the Castle of Lions had been sacrificed to the rift.

Earth cell phone, check, tucked into the pocket of his jacket and not valuable for its archaic tech by Altean standards but for the pictures and voicemails he had long since memorized but still listened to nearly daily.

Sneakers, check, in the same bag.

Slipp—

He froze.

His Blue Lion slippers were not in the bag. They’d been tucked under his bed.

And in the grand scheme of things they didn’t mean anything — not compared to Allura and Coran who had just lost their second home, to the fact that a few hours ago he’d found out Shiro was not Shiro and now he was again, that Keith had aged two years and found his _ mom_, that Lotor had turned on them, had been killing Alteans this whole time, and was now _ dead _— but for some reason it was the thing that made tears spring to his eyes.

They had been all he had left of being the former Paladin of the Blue Lion. 

And now they were gone.

Lance pulled the quilt — just one, had to leave the others he’d collected, but this one had been from Shay’s mom — tight about his shoulders and buried his nose into the scratchy folds and breathed in. 

He did so until his eyes stopped stinging.

He lifted them to gaze out Red’s front window, space rushing by and his Lion fortunately operating enough on her own that he didn’t need to steer because right now he was not capable.

He was still shaking.

He wasn’t sure he was going to stop.

He glanced at the clock embedded in the dashboard.

How had it only been two hours since… since all of that?

He could still hear Lotor’s laughter, his screams.

Still feel Shiro’s (not Shiro’s) glare, the fire in his gaze before he’d turned on them, and the confusion and hurt that had seized his chest moreso than Shiro’s cruel grip and throw had done.

Could see the scar carved into Keith’s cheek, Shiro’s new gray hair, the damage to the Lions from the battle and _ how had they survived that? _

He clenched the blanket tighter in white-knuckled hands, gloves long discarded on the floor because he’d needed to _ feel _something and had dug the quilt out of the hastily thrown together bag with a need bordering on fervor. 

He’d set up the one plant he’d rescued — Rachel, the strange orange star-shaped leaf succulent — on Red’s dash and he turned his gaze to it from the endless space outside because right now the stars of the universe were not the comfort they used to be.

If he looked too long he saw the rift, saw the universe splitting apart, saw how close they almost came to losing everything and realizing how _ small _they were against it all. 

He traced the outline of the leaves, the lines of darker orange at the center that faded to a near peach on the tips, the dark brown leaves that matched Rachel’s hair and had the faintest curl. 

But as hard as he stared and tried to pretend that he was back in his room in the castle, that everything was okay, that the universe hadn’t almost fallen apart, the silence pressed in. 

He needed a distraction.

He needed to hear someone’s voice, to know he wasn’t alone.

But, his hand hovered over the console, everyone was tired, exhausted. He didn’t want to bother them. He shouldn’t bother them. Not right now. Not without a reason and him being lonely was not a good enough one.

He shook.

Lonely and _ scared. _

He wanted a hug. 

A big Hunk one that near smothered him in large arms and he would feel so _ safe _ and _ warm. _

He retracted his hand back from the console and wrapped it instead about his arms, a self-hug that looked as sad as it felt.

But it was better than nothing.

And better than bothering everyone.

The console crackled with static a tick later and Lance nearly fell off the seat, his legs pulled up to his chest and balance unsteady, in surprise.

“_We need to stop.” _Keith sounded over the comms.

Lance sat up straighter.

This new version of Keith he’d known for a few scant hours — two years, how had he been gone for two years? — was less angry, less rash, and while still passionate and sharp he had softened, somewhat. 

The old Keith would have demanded they stop. This one just…

Just sounded worried.

_ “Something is wrong with Shiro. He’s… he’s having trouble breathing.” _

Honestly, Lance wasn’t surprised there was some complication. He still didn’t entirely understand what had happened but the… clone? had been dying and Allura had transferred Shiro’s… soul? consciousness? from the Black Lion where Shiro had apparently been living mentally in the Astral Plane this entire time and having a physical body — was it even his body? — had to be a big change.

Lance almost snorted. A change. As though what had happened was like redecorating a room. 

“_Our database records did not transfer fully from the castle,” _ Coran crackled across, “_but readings indicate a habitable planet about twenty dobashes out.” _

_ “Set our course for it.” _

_ “Right away, Number Four. Everyone, follow the Blue Lion please.” _

_ “Uh, when we land I need to look at Yellow,” _ Hunk said. _ “I’m getting warnings for a breach in the cargo hold.” _

_ “Hold tight, Number Two, and secure your cockpit. We’ll be landing shortly.” _

Lance didn’t say anything as the comms went silent but the vice in his chest was releasing somewhat even with the bad news about Shiro.

They were going to land.

Stop. Take a break.

And he wasn’t going to be alone.

He felt Red give a twitch in the back of his mind at that, insulted.

“I know,” Lance whispered, placing a quilt-clad hand on the console. “Sorry, girl. I’ve always got you.”

But both he and the Lion knew it wasn’t the same and he felt a nuzzle, gentle for Red, against his mind. 

“Thanks, Red,” Lance said softly. “I’ll have Hunk look at you too, okay?” Because she had a number of alerts and warnings on her dashboard and while he didn’t know what was feasible to repair with their very limited supplies — had anyone grabbed repair supplies? — he would see what they could do. Red sent her thanks.

A long twenty dobashes later they were descending to a large planet, blue and green in color, and Lance was hit with a sharp pang of homesickness at how much it resembled Earth, but the blues belonged to treetops and the greens to the rocks as they got closer.

Allura was in the lead with the Blue Lion and she directed them to a clearing alongside what looked like maybe a purple colored lake and Red thumped down between Blue and Yellow. 

He folded the quilt and left it on his pilot’s chair and then hurried out down the ramp, the air brisk and fresh after the closed cabin. Keith’s mom — Krolia, Lance thought, maybe — was exiting the Black Lion, Shiro in her arms, and Keith and his space wolf dog that Lance still didn’t know the name of trotting at her heels. 

“‘m... fine…” Shiro was protesting, but his voice was faint and breathy and not at all like the Shiro Lance had always known, and the image he made, cradled against Keith’s mom, made him look so _ small _where he had always been larger than life to Lance. 

It made the tight, sick feeling come back even in the open air.

Lance turned away from the sight as Coran and Allura hurried towards them, a large med kit in Coran’s hands and Allura carrying an entire cot from inside the Blue Lion like it was nothing. Ro—- melle? mira? — raced after Allura, hair flying out behind her, with pillows and blankets piled high in her arms and nearly running Lance over in her haste.

Hunk was more sedately coming out of Yellow, his steps as heavy as Lance felt, but upon seeing Lance waiting at the bottom Hunk’s face brightened and he he’d barely made it off the ramp before Lance was leaning in for a hug and one that Hunk gave in full.

Lance let out a sigh and slumped in the embrace.

Better.

Much better. 

“¿_Estás bien?” _Hunk asked quietly and after a second Lance gave a nod against the broad chest.

He was. Really. All things considered. At least compared to most of the others.

Hunk just gave him a tighter squeeze. 

“Let’s… let’s see what we can do to help?” Lance asked after he’d indulged for another minute in Hunk’s hug, even with armor it felt soft. 

“I’m gonna check on Yellow, find that hole,” Hunk said. “Come with?”

Lance nodded.

Better than him getting in the way with whatever Coran and Allura could do for Shiro, and, guiltily, he didn’t want to see Shiro like that.

“Let’s find Pidge.”

Pidge, it turned out, was still aboard Green although the ramp was extended from the cargo hold so Lance poked his head in and called for her. She emerged from one of the storage holds with a box full of what looked like welding tools.

Hunk looked like Christmas had come.

“You brought all of that?” he exclaimed, taking the box. “How?”

“It was already on board,” Pidge said. “I had to hide it from some scavenging fingers.”

Hunk didn’t even look chagrined about being called out and when Pidge caught Lance’s eye with a smirk he found himself able to match it and the tight feeling lessened further.

Things were bad but…

But they were all together. They were all going to be okay.

They’d get through this just as they always had before.

For the next hour Lance assisted the two tech geniuses, doing his part when he had found the broken seal; a hairline fracture, but he wasn’t much help after that as the two of them went at it with the tools and spare parts and then moved on to repairing one of Yellow’s large flank shields. It perhaps wasn’t the most pressing matter but it was something they _ could _ fix and Lance understood how that felt, especially for someone like Hunk. He was honestly holding together better than Lance had thought he would, but his anxiety had improved leaps and bounds since they got catapulted into space and focusing on one task at a time had always been good for his panic attacks.

Lance left them to it and, feeling the guilt coming back, went for where the rest of their group was gathered.

Where Shiro was.

The man was asleep by the looks of it, although his face was drawn and pale in a way that wasn’t because of his new hair. Allura looked equally exhausted although she was still awake even if just barely, sitting at Shiro’s side and holding his hand while the other Altean girl held her other.

Keith was kneeling next to Shiro and didn’t even seem aware of Lance’s approach but both Coran and Keith’s mom, who were going through a box of supplies, looked up.

“Lance, lad,” Coran greeted, “just the person I was looking for.”

“Me?” Lance clarified, pointing at himself because why on earth would Coran be looking for him?

“Yup,” Coran said cheerily although Lance could see something almost strained in the expression. “Can I have a word over here?”

He gestured towards the Black Lion and out of immediate hearing distance of the gathered group.

To Lance’s surprise Keith’s mom joined them and unlike Coran her expression was grim.

“Uh, what’s going on?” Lance resisted the urge to shift on his feet under the Galran’s intense stare.

“I do not wish to cause any alarm,” Coran said softly, “or, well, moreso than we already have, but…”

“We have almost no medical supplies,” Keith’s mom interjected. “And are lacking too in our food stores.”

Lance’s stomach clenched.

What?

“I gathered some items,” Coran continued, “but time was not on our side, I’m afraid, and it is not very much. Number One’s body is incredibly weak and right now infection from his arm port is a very real concern with his lowered immune system and frankly what I have on hand is not enough.”

Coran looked so _ upset _that it hurt to see. He’d always cared for them, always had a fully stocked infirmary and cryo-pods. Now…

Now they had almost nothing.

And Lance felt guilt rear again as he’d been so concerned with grabbing his personal items he hadn’t even thought about grabbing essentials. But, he reasoned, he’d spent a lot of time grabbing Kaltenecker and not only was bringing the cow the right thing to do she could provide milk too and milk (unless you were lactose intolerant) never hurt anyone.

But still...

“The pod we do have is more for stasis than anything,” Coran continued, “and while I could put Number One back under, so to speak, I fear doing so would only harm him further in the long run as his body will become dependent on it.”

“What… what can I do?” Lance asked because they couldn’t be telling him this for no reason. 

He had to be able to do something.

“When we landed I saw what looked to be a civilization about six pylans in the third direction,” Keith’s mom said. “It is possible they may have supplies for our use.”

“But, uh, we are lacking a bit in the fund department,” Coran colored slightly. “And I had hoped you could assist us, my boy.” His expression brightened some and he threw Lance a wink. “If anyone could charm some locals I know it would be you.”

“Well, I am pretty charming,” Lance grinned and was pleased when Coran matched it and even more pleased by the thought Coran was entrusting him to such an important task. 

And better yet, it was one he felt confident he could pull off.

He often went shopping with Coran or Hunk for supplies and could normally flirt and haggle his way to a better price and even plenty of free items. This would be a piece of cake.

“I knew we could count on you!” Coran cheered. “All righty then, here’s what we need…”

A half varga later Lance was headed towards the town Keith’s mom — Krolia, as Coran had called her — seen with a list of needed items as well as small bag of currency and some small items of potential value that he could use to barter with. 

Lance had done with less, had seen his parents back in Cuba and even when they’d moved to the States do with less, and he was pretty confident. After all, he was Loverboy Lance, everyone loved the Paladins of Voltron (assuming this wasn’t some Sendak or rebel Galra post as Lotor’s demise and betrayal could not have spread yet at all in the few hours since the battle) and Coran was trusting him with this, with Shiro’s health, and Lance would not let them down.

Six pylans was just about three miles but Lance didn’t mind the walk. Coran had suggested he take the Red Lion but Lance could feel how exhausted she was from the battle and not to mention there was the new issue of how to recharge the Lions without the castle’s crystals so conserving what energy they had would be in their best interest. The temperature of this planet was like a brisk spring day and the ground relatively even with broad plains of rocks and grasses stretching between the blue colored trees and if Lance haggled well enough perhaps a local would even give him a lift back.

Krolia had volunteered to go with him but Lance had turned her down as she was needed at the camp. All of the Paladins were exhausted from the battle, Keith _ was _ hurt from whatever had gone down between him and Shiro (they all _ really _needed to sit down and talk and get on the same page with all that had happened), Allura had exhausted her quintessence doing the soul thing with Shiro and was pretty much out for the count too, which left Krolia and Coran and while Lance didn’t think anyone should be attacking them… they were the bigger target with the Lions and numbers and he would be unnoticed wandering solo on the planet.

This was safer.

And seeing Krolia’s look of approval when Lance had put forth his reasoning had made something warm fill his chest, not unlike when his parents or a teacher would praise him. Between her and Coran and the task he’d been personally selected for Lance was feeling like he could take on an entire Galra sentry squadron and not break a sweat (although he’d really rather not).

Krolia’s directions were accurate as after about a steady thirty minute trek Lance was reaching an outer wall that was clearly man(alien?)-made, although it had seen far better days, many of the top stones weatherbeaten and chunks and holes filtering through what had previously been some sort of of mortar. 

Lance hoped the town hadn’t been abandoned. It was unfortunately all too common and Coran hadn’t even known what planet they were on. 

Those fears were unfounded though as he passed through a sagging gate and entered the town. There was a marketplace made of the blue wood of the local trees directly in front of him and shorter dwellings stretched out far beyond that, homes, maybe. But it wasn’t the buildings that caught his attention but the _ people. _

They were tall and broad, very human shaped although their heads sort of looked like potatoes and they were all bald. Like the trees they were blue although the shades seemed to vary from alien to alien and they were clothed in mor shades of blue with accents of brown and purple.

Grinning, Lance strode right in.

He sort of blended in with his own armor colors and brown hair and tanned skin, but he was still a stranger in a strange land and as he crossed the first sort of street towards where there was a small group of aliens gathered outside one store he could feel the stares starting and while the conversation had already been quiet it took on a hushed, whispered air.

It was fine, he knew he was the outsider here.

“Hello!” he called, lifting a hand in greeting to the three aliens he was headed for, sending the brightest smile he could. Closer now he could see that the buildings were like the gate; once well kept but now weathered, beaten down and no one had made attempts to repair them.

Hard times, maybe?

Although the trees and rocks were plentiful as were the people here so… 

No one smiled back but he saw dark eyes glancing from his face to his chest.

Ah.

The Voltron symbol.

“You,” spoke one alien, “are with… Voltron?”

At the sound of ‘Voltron’ the earlier whispers suddenly seemed to swell and Lance became aware of several more aliens heading for them.

Apparently they did know of Voltron here. That would make things much easier.

Lance grinned at her. “That’s right. I’m Lance, the Red Paladin. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

She had not been smiling before but now she definitely wasn’t, her eyes narrowing and something ugly crossing her face.

“A pleasure?” spoke a different alien, voice a growl. “A _ pleasure?” _

That word definitely meant something different here.

“Er, where I come from that means, um, nice to meet you,” Lance raised his hands placatingly, keeping his smile on even though he dimmed it. “I apologize if I said something to offend you. I didn’t—”

“He apologizes!” barked another alien and loud laughter greeted it. “Oh, well that makes it all better, doesn’t it?”

Lance considered himself to be pretty good at reading a situation and people but right now he felt completely off-kilter. 

“I—”

“Go on, Paladin, apologize again,” shouted another. “Apologize for abandoning us! Let’s see if it fixes everything.”

Abandon?

What were they talking about?

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re—”

“And he’s apologizing again!” crowed the original one. “Is everyone getting this? Is everyone feeling better? Has our suffering ceased?”

There was more laughter and jeering now and something told Lance this was far, far more than a misspoken word. His hand twitched wanting to summon his bayard, but he resisted the urge. These people weren’t bad guys, he wasn’t going to hurt th—

A large hand clamped down on his shoulder from behind and before Lance could even turn, ask that they remove it, another one was grasping his other arm and then more and more until his arms were pulled away from him and it _ hurt _and they were laughing and shouting and more and more aliens were coming now, the noise growing louder.

“Look, please—” Lance couldn’t even hear himself over the crowd and they didn’t seem to care. 

He tried to pull his arm free but the grips tightened, bruisingly, and he felt reflexive tears spring to his eyes as a new hand grasped his hair and yanked his head backwards so his neck was bent painfully at the angle to his body.

“Look, look, he’s crying!” boomed one alien and there were _ cheers _to this as well as expressions of disgust.

“Let’s make him really cry!”

“We’ll show him what our suffering looks like!”

“Punish him!”

“Wh-what?” Lance gasped, trying to twist unsuccessfully as more and more aliens were surrounding him and someone was tugging now at his leg braces and panic was filling his lungs as they crowded in, grabbed at him, and the shouting and sneering continued. 

He felt dizzy.

He felt sick.

What was going on?

“Please, I don’t—”

“You thought you could just come back after abandoning us?”

“A-abandon?” Lance repeated as that word came up again. “What are you—?”

He cut off with a cry as the alien who had been tugging on his leg brace had apparently given up on finding the latch and had crushed it beneath their hand and shards of armor _ stabbed _into his leg. 

_ Dios. _

What was happening?

“Please,” he tried again, but they drowned him out with cruel laughter and taunts. 

But one must have heard him because while they scoffed they answered him.

“You abandoned us, Paladin. For three years Sendak and his armies have run unchecked across the galaxy while Voltron was nowhere to be found.”

Three…

Years?

What?

“No,” Lance shook his head in the grip. “No. That’s, that’s impossible. We just fought Lotor.”

“Shut him up!” scowled an alien. “We don’t want to hear excuses.”

The suggestion was met with raucous cheering and a hand clamped over his mouth. Lance gnashed his teeth unsuccessfully at the hand and then tried to turn his head as someone else thrust a coil of coarse rope forward, pleas and apologies and whatever he could think of falling from his lips.

It mattered not as they fell on deaf ears and the rope was forced between his teeth and he _ gagged _as they shoved it further in tied it behind his head, so tight he could already taste blood where it grated on the corners of his mouth.

The sight seemed to rouse them further as they became even more violent, grabbing at armor and his undersuit alike, tearing and pulling and breaking and Lance was trying to free himself now without consideration for hurting them, kicking and twisting because what was this why were they doing this please, please stop it _ hurt, _ but they had grabbed hold of his legs and his arms were still wrenched painfully away and he could do _ nothing _as they continued to strip him of his armor.

Within the minute all of the pieces had been pulled off, rips and tears littered his underarmor and his hands were bound tightly behind him with the same rope functioning as his gag. 

But most terrifying was the rope noose around his neck with a lead that one of the aliens yanked on and it _ choked _him as he could not move to follow as hands held him back. 

What…

What were they going to do?

Lance gagged again as it was tightened and only the crowd pressing in kept him upright as black spots splattered across his vision.

“Call the fields!” shouted the alien holding onto the lead. “Ring the bell! There’s going to be a hanging at sunset!”

The call was taken up.

“Hanging!”

“Hanging!”

“Hang the deserter!”

Lance felt faint.

Hanging?

They were going to…?

A bell began to toll a few seconds later.

“But first,” the rope was tugged again. “Let’s take him for a walk.”

Lance was _ dragged _forward, stumbling as he tried to keep his feet beneath him because if he didn’t…

The noose tightened in reminder when he failed to move fast enough.

It had nothing on the tightening in his chest, of the fear starting to choke him more than the rope. 

He was going to die.

He was going to _ die _ and he couldn’t do _ anything. _

He was weaponless, defenseless. He was exhausted. He was alone.

And as the walk continued…

He was hurt.

Aliens were pouring out as he was forced through the streets, lobbing rocks at him and he could feel blood trickling down his cheek where one had sliced a ribbon and the bruises forming beneath his tattered undersuit.

More aggressive ones came forward, landing blows with both fists and various pieces of farm equipment. They spat on him and jeered and laughed when he fell down only to be hoisted up by the crowd and shoved forward. 

The bell continued to toll.

They passed a gallows set up in a large square.

“_Where the Galra kill us when we don’t have enough tribute,” _ one alien had hissed at him, grabbing Lance’s chin and forcing him to look at the swaying noose. _ “Your fate, you deserter scum.” _

Lance couldn’t speak but he still tried.

Apologies, pleas, explanations.

Voltron hadn’t abandoned them.

They’d just fought Lotor.

They were still fighting for them.

They were trying to _ help. _

They’d been missing for at most a few _ hours, _ not a few _ years. _

And having the gag didn’t matter because even had they heard him they were not willing to listen.

Voltron had abandoned them, they claimed. The Paladins had abandoned them to the mercy of Sendak and the Galra. And now it was time for them to pay. 

Lance prayed the others didn’t end up the same as him.

That they recovered his body. 

That…

That they didn’t mourn for too long. The universe sounded like it needed them, if the aliens were to be believed.

And he prayed that…

That they didn’t enact vengeance on this town. 

These people…

They were victims too. 

And Voltron had somehow made it through the war so far with their souls, their morals still intact.

If… if they killed these aliens…

Lance didn’t want that.

He hoped they knew that.

Even though…

Even though he…

He was so _ scared. _

He couldn’t seem to stop the tears now, blurring his vision but he didn’t need to see where he was going.

He knew the final destination.

The sun was starting to descend, casting a brownish glow over the blue-hued town and aliens as he was dragged up the short flight of steps to the gallows, his legs barely supporting him. They sneered at him as the lone noose was lowered for his height, forcing him still onto his tiptoes onto a low stool, and it took the place of the leash.

Lance could both barely feel it through the numbness setting in and felt it so much as coarse fibers dug into an already raw and bleeding, bruised throat and he had to keep his head up less he hang himself right then and there.

He was going to die.

_ Dios, _he was going to die.

This was it. After all he’d done, after all he’d survived, this was where it ended.

Dying for _ nothing. _

His legs trembled, his eyes stung, his pulse was racing so loudly it was a roar in his ears, and still he could do nothing. 

_ “Please,” _he tried to plead once more, but all that emerged was a muffled moan and the aliens only laughed more, shoving each other now with excitement. 

“Let us not give this traitor any more ceremony,” said an alien, the one who had taken control of his lead and seemed to be the leader, voice booming right behind Lance’s head. “For deserting us let us now sentence this Paladin of Voltron scum to death!”

The cheers drowned out even Lance’s heartbeat. 

Hot breath wafted across Lance’s cheek from behind.

“Farewell, Paladin,” came a cruel whisper. 

And the stool was kicked away.

For a single second Lance hung there, defying gravity.

And then he fell.

It wasn’t far but it was far enough.

Coarse ropes cut into his skin, blood mingled with bruises and every bit of air he had was _ gone _ as his throat _ screamed _because he couldn’t do it as all of his weight hung from his neck, not snapped immediately and somehow, somehow it was worse.

He had to suffer his impending death for a few moments longer, a last taunt of how much he had _ failed. _

He choked and writhed, trying to bring his legs up as though that would lessen the weight.

But they were so heavy and it wouldn’t do anything anyway.

It _ hurt. _

_ Dios, _ it _ hurt. _

He wanted to cry.

He couldn’t cry.

He couldn’t do anything except hang there and wait for it to be over.

It had to be over soon.

It _ hurt. _

_ Dios, _it hurt it hurt it hurt.

His whimper was swallowed up by the gag.

His vision was starting to go dark but he could still see cruel faces, not a single drop of mercy etched into hate-filled gazes and twisted lips.

He closed his eyes so at least the blackness would be the last thing he saw.

He could still hear the crowd heckling and laughing, a dull sort of roar.

It would be the last sound he heard.

He couldn’t do anything about that.

A final, hot tear stung his cheek and he focused on it, focused on trying to hear his pulse as it slowed.

And then he heard a _ pop! _

There was the scent of o-zone, the sound of surprised screams and then hands, bruising and yet somehow _ safe, _ were on his upper arms, there was a sensation of something soft — fur? — against a bare spot of skin on his leg and then another echoing _ pop! _and the sensation of somersaulting.

There were new screams then and shouting and more hands, on his shoulders, around his head, and there was _ ground _ beneath him and someone was crying and and something _ sharp _ sliced into his neck but he couldn’t even cry out as he had no air but then it was there and he could feel the noose being pulled free, heard more crying and shouting and it _ hurt _ but…

But it didn’t hurt at all.

His eyes were as heavy as the rest of him but he forced them open, just for a second.

And in that brief glance he saw not shades of blue but all different colors: red and yellow and orange and pink and green and white and teal. 

And although everything hurt, everything was still hazy and dark and people were shouting…

He knew he was safe.

And this time, as he slipped into the darkness, surrounded by warm hands and gentle touches, he wasn’t afraid at all.

**Author's Note:**

> My Fic of the Month from April. It's one of the fics I'll be putting in my zine and since preorders are opening soon I figured I should probably post it; proceeds benefit an awesome animal charity!). And just in case there was any confusion, Kosmo (and Keith) popped in and rescued Lance as the team heard the bells ringing, went to investigate and, well... good thing they did ;)
> 
> If you enjoyed the fic, please please do leave a comment below detailing what you liked about it (the small details make my day!) Emotional support and validation is super important and appreciated and your comments mean the world. **_Please_ don’t just read and run! Leave a comment! Thank you!**


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